


Metaphysical Theory and Practice

by jammerific



Category: Original Work
Genre: Academia, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Libraries, Magic, Magical Realism, Necromancy, Romance, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammerific/pseuds/jammerific
Summary: Penny Embric is on the cusp of becoming the youngest ever necromancer to be inducted into the Order of Acheron. The only thing standing in her way is the strict, and annoyingly hot, new librarian."It's no good," she said to her rabbit as she sat down on the sofa. "I can't talk myself out of this one. Eventually, I'm going to have to ask her on a real date, and then I'll have to move to another city when she says no and I can't show my face in the library any more."Munch looked at her, long white ears twitching, and bent to nibble his fur.
Relationships: Librarian in library devoted to forbidden magic/Sorceress who really needs that tome, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 16
Kudos: 27
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Metaphysical Theory and Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wanda von dunayev (wandavon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandavon/gifts), [Cyphomandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyphomandra/gifts), [skatzaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/gifts), [Yrindor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yrindor/gifts).



> The moment I saw the tag "Librarian in library devoted to forbidden magic/Sorceress who really needs that tome" I knew I had to write something for it. I hope this scratches the itch for at least some of the people who requested it, and especially for wandavon, who listened to me squee about it the whole time I was writing. :)
> 
> A million thanks to [borichu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/borichu/pseuds/borichu), without whose advice this story would be much weaker.

Penny rubbed her eyes as she bent over her books, trying to get through just one more paragraph... one more sentence. She'd read the last sentence three times without absorbing any of it. Time for bed; her research would still be here in the morning, and she still had almost a week until her next deadline. She closed the book and tucked her hair behind her ear where it had escaped again. The streak which she'd dyed purple - a quickly-regretted token effort towards fitting in with the other necromancers - had turned an embarrassing bubblegum pink when she'd tried to bleach it out again. Every sight of it in her peripheral vision reminded her of her meeting last month with Madame Lascelles, the current Grand Warlock of the Order of Acheron.

"Call me Lacy, please," the vampire had smiled broadly. The effect was less reassuring than when a human did it; those canine teeth really were something.

"The thing you have to understand, Ms. Kembric," she'd continued, bone-white hands steepled in front of her, "is that the average age of our inductees is sixty-five. To accept someone not even into their third decade, it's simply unfathomable. You must be patient."

That was all very well for a vampire to say, of course. Patience was easy to come by for the functionally immortal. The necromancy community was so utterly dominated by the undead that Penny knew of more than one researcher who'd willingly been Turned in order to secure a place, but she had no intention of doing the same. She was too attached to long walks in the sunshine, and sampling the culinary offerings of the bistros and restaurants dotted around the city. No, what Penny lacked in time she was going to make up for with sheer determination instead. The drawback of a lengthy lifespan was complacency; most vampires published a bare handful of papers per decade. Penny had published three so far this year, and had a fourth almost ready for submission to the journal editors. 

But she wasn't going to finish this paper by reminiscing, and it was increasingly clear that the book she was perusing didn't hold the answer she wanted; it only pointed her towards other books which might. She'd get some sleep, and head to the library in the morning.

~

October in Luzhič was as turbulent as ever, and the wind blew smatterings of rain and leaves across the almost-empty street as Penny made her way to the library. She tugged her hood further over her hair and resettled the strap of her satchel on her shoulder where it was starting to dig in, weighed down by the bulky tomes stuffed inside. At the end of the street, the early sunlight turned the pale stone walls of the Mar-Saare library to gold. The library was the jewel of the city; the finest collection of magical knowledge on the continent, including on the topic of necromancy. She jogged up the steps to the great double doors standing imposingly at the top. Brass rivets marched across their deep green surface in neat rows, exactly as they had when the place was first built eight hundred years ago. Penny shoved her entire weight into heaving one open, and slipped through into the quiet, hallowed space within.

The inside of the library was exactly what you'd expect from such a revered institution. Towering dark wood shelves lined either side of the central walkway, stretching away to a wide, sweeping staircase set beneath a great glass dome. Upstairs were yet more shelves; study tables and reading rooms and busts of philosophers and philanthropists on marble plinths. Penny wasn't headed upstairs, though. She followed one dusty corridor of books all the way to a dead end, and a plain wooden panel which popped open at the press of a hidden switch in the skirting. She stepped through, closing it behind her with a soft click and descending the spiral staircase concealed behind.

At the bottom of _these_ stairs was a room much less grand than the palatial ones above, lit only by the soft light of brass lamps. This space was cluttered, with shelves crowded tightly together like whispering conspirators. The books chained to their ebony shelves held the promise of dark secrets within; each aisle was locked behind a barred gate, and only the Duty Librarian carried the keys.

Penny made her way to the sturdy circular desk at the centre of the room, plastering a wide and earnest smile on her face. 

"Micah, I know I'm a bit late-" She came to an abrupt halt. The figure sitting behind the desk was not Micah. "You're not Micah," she said, feeling stupid the moment the words left her mouth.

The woman raised an eyebrow at her. She was young enough to be Micah's great-granddaughter, around the same age as Penny herself, and dressed in robes that accentuated the curves of her bust and hips and the length of her legs. The overall effect was stunningly hot. Penny dragged her eyes back up to the woman's distinctly unimpressed face, and felt suddenly self-conscious about her own appearance, which might charitably have been described as 'magical hobo'. She tugged on a frayed thread which had worked its way loose from one of her knitted wrist warmers.

"Well observed." The woman's features were almost aristocratic, set on mid-brown skin and framed by tight, well-tamed black curls. "Micah is taking a leave of absence."

"Oh." Penny shuffled slightly. She was fond of Micah, and thought the elderly elf harboured a secret fondness for her too. Why else would he be so lenient with her persistent late returns? "What happened to him? When is he coming back?"

"I hardly think it would be appropriate to share that information with a patron," the woman replied. "Do you require help with anything?"

Penny swung the bag off her shoulder onto the desk with a thump, and pulled out the stack of books. In her hurry a few other miscellaneous bits and pieces spilled onto the table too: a length of string, a piece of chalk, a cormorant feather. Penny hastily brushed them back into the bag and placed her library card on top of the stack.

"I'd like to return these," she said, "and then I'd like to check out 'Spiritual Practices of the Eastern Isles and Archipelago' by Augustus Makerand, please."

The woman took out the register of loans, leafing through the pages to find Penny's details and marking off each item in turn. Her eyebrows rose at the end. "It says here that you still have a book on loan since April. It is now..." she paused for some mental arithmetic, "... five months overdue."

Penny smacked a hand over her face. She had absolutely no memory of having any other books out. "What's the title?"

"Metaphysical Theory and Practice, Seventeenth Edition," the woman read out.

 _Oh_ \- that was ringing some bells, actually. When did she - ah, yes, when she was chasing down that idea that Belgaer's equations for metaphysical power transfer might be the key to binding a spirit to an inanimate anchor. A dead end - hah - but she was sure there was still _something_ to be discovered there. She cast back for the last memory she had of seeing the book...

"I _think_ I know where it is?" she said. "I'll bring it back next time. Can I get the book I asked for?"

"Once you've returned your outstanding loans, you may check out whatever you please. But I'm afraid I can't begin a new loan to any member not currently in good standing."

Penny opened her mouth to protest, but something in the set of the woman's shoulders and the expression on her face told her that arguing would be fruitless. She picked up her library card from the desk, fiddling with it before tucking it into one of the many pockets in her coat. "Right. I'll just - come back tomorrow with that book, then, I guess."

"That's probably your best course of action, yes." 

~

Penny meant to look for the book, she truly did. But there was so much else to do, if she had any hope of being the youngest ever inductee into the Order of Acheron. There was a paper due to Annals of the Necromantic Arts next weekend that she still hadn't finished, and then she ran out of tea and had to venture back out into the blustery evening to get more, from the little emporium of imported goods on Larkspur Street. And as always, once she'd stepped foot in there, the little bell above the door tinkling cheerfully - well, she could never be _quick_ to leave that space, with its cluttered shelves and air heady with a hundred mingled scents. Mrs Crasnik who ran the place was always good for a chat, and Penny left a significant stretch of time later weighed down by an assortment of candles and candied fruit as well as her box of tea.

She was almost back at the library the next morning when she remembered she didn't have the book. She could go home and try to find it, but trekking all the way back home and back _again_ in the icy wind was an unappealing thought. Steeling herself, she made her way back down to the crypt-like quiet of the Forbidden Magics section.

Bitchface McGee was once again staffing the desk, and waited for Penny to approach.

"Ms Kembric. How can I help you today?"

"You remembered my name?"

"I have a very good memory. Is there anything you need?"

Ah yes. Penny straightened from her habitual slouch, and brushed some strands of hair out of her face. 

"Look. I know I said I'd bring back the book I have out - and I do intend to! - but the thing is, I don't have it on me _right now_. The spiritual practices book is really important though, and I have a deadline. So I'd appreciate if you'd let me borrow it anyway. Please."

Was she imagining the look of sympathy being directed at her?

"An eloquent plea. But no."

Ah, that look was pity. Penny really should have recognised it; she'd been on the receiving end of it from incredibly attractive women often enough. She stifled a childish noise of aggravation. "Micah would have let me borrow it?" she tried.

"How unfortunate for you, then, that Micah isn't here," Bitchface's tone was even but unequivocal. 

Penny made her way back up the staircase, thinking. If Micah wasn't coming back any time soon, Penny needed to somehow work her way into Bitchface's good books (pun unintended). This was going to take some strategy. Having something to call her other than 'Bitchface' would probably be a good start...

"Hi," she said to the man at the main information desk upstairs, putting plenty of pep into her tone. "I was hoping to borrow a primer on atmospheric magic, but I couldn't find it on the shelves?"

He peered at her through his thick-rimmed glasses. "Oh, really? I don't believe anyone has it on loan currently, it should be there - one moment, please." He bustled away through the aisles. Penny waited until the silk back of his waistcoat had disappeared from view before slipping around behind the desk. The atmospheric magic section was in the furthest corner of the top floor; he'd be gone a while. She flipped open the Duty Roster, scanning her finger down to today's early shift. _Micah Tannenbaum_ was neatly crossed out, and _Samira Ayles_ was written above in flowing script. Damn, even her name was attractive.

Step Two of the Plan involved some light stalking. Penny loitered near the door shortly before the shift change, doing a solid impression of being utterly engrossed in a book on native flora of the temperate regions. She didn't have to maintain the pretence for long - after only a few minutes she heard the clicking of sensible ankle boots passing by the end of the stack. She pushed the book back onto the shelf and hurried in pursuit. Penny was undoubtedly not the world's most proficient spy, but Samira clearly had no reason to suspect she was being tailed, and Penny remained undetected. Eventually Samira ducked into a coffee house and Penny quietly followed, lurking near the specials board to eavesdrop as Samira placed her order.

That night, she actually did look for the book, but wherever she'd stashed the damn thing, it evaded her every effort. By bedtime she'd turned up a favourite sweater she thought she'd lost and which would only need some minor patching to be wearable again; approximately eight thousand hair ties; and a saucepan that had for some reason been stashed under a pile of unfolded laundry. But no book. Time for Step Three. 

~

She returned to the library the next day via the coffee shop, and entered carrying a large frothy drink with 'Meeran' written sloppily on the side. She held it out across the desk.

Samira raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"A peace offering. I feel like we kind of got off on the wrong foot, the other day." 

"Do you." There was a warm undercurrent of amusement in that rich voice. "And you thought you'd remedy this by... spying on me?"

Phrased like that, it did sound a bit creepy. "Er. Yes."

"I'm not in the habit of accepting drinks from strangers," Samira said, but she was reaching for the cup nonetheless. Her long, elegant fingers brushed against Penny's slightly as she took it; her nails were perfectly manicured. "I'm still not letting you take any more books out until you've returned the one you've lost."

"I haven't lost it!" Penny objected. "I may have _temporarily_ misplaced it, that's all."

Samira snorted lightly. "You can study the book on Eastern spiritual practices here, if you like. But you can't take it home."

Once Samira had retrieved the tome for her, Penny carefully laid it on one of the study tables and leafed through its fragile pages. Not many copies existed; the Mar-Saare probably held the only one in a hundred mile radius. It documented archmage Makerand's travels around the various island nations of the Eastern Seas, in the era before their borders had so definitively been closed to outsiders. The magical barrier erected around the isles was so impenetrable it had inspired a great many theses exploring everything from its composition, its creation, its possible vulnerability to different types of magic... even its impact on the local weather systems.

Penny's interest wasn't in the barrier, though. She'd seen a mention in another book of the War Mages of the Archipelago "calling back ghosts of the departed during battle, to fight yet longer", which must surely mean they had a more portable method than the traditional summoning circle. Unfortunately, Makerand hadn't bothered with any kind of index, and the book took the form of a meandering diary, full of rambling asides written in an archaic dialect.

She spent most of the morning struggling through the dense text in silence. Other patrons filtered in and out, and Samira worked quietly and efficiently in the edges of her vision, occasionally taking a sip from her drink - the heating rune integrated into the cup would keep it warm for hours yet. Penny felt Samira's eyes on her occasionally - no doubt checking she wasn't damaging the book. As the clock ticked towards noon, and Penny's stomach began to growl, Samira approached the table. They were the only ones left in the space.

"I'm just about to go on break," she said, smoothing down the front of her exquisitely tailored jacket.

Penny stared blankly at her for a second, working out why Samira was bothering to tell her this, before realising she must want to lock the book away again. "Oh, sorry, I'll - one second." She noted down the page she'd been reading and closed it gently, handing it over. Maybe it was time to break for lunch anyway.

Samira took it just as carefully, but made no move towards the locked aisle. "Thank you. I was wondering, actually, would you mind pointing me towards somewhere good around here to eat? The last few days I just brought sandwiches, but I feel like I'm missing out on the Luzhič experience." Her smile was a bit hesitant, a little wry.

"I was just thinking about food," Penny blurted. Then some dusty, neglected part of her brain lurched back to life to yell _Be cool! Don't blow this!_ and she forced herself to think about the next words out of her mouth, trying to layer a hint of flirtatiousness into her tone. "I know a really nice bistro not far from here? I'm going there myself actually, if you'd like to... join me?"

Samira smiled. "That sounds great. I'll put this away and get my coat while you pack up." 

~

In the bistro, they were waved towards a table tucked in the corner near the window, and spent a few minutes awkwardly divesting themselves of their outer layers and ordering. 

"So what are you working on, exactly?" Samira asked as they waited for the food. "I don't see many people asking for material on the Eastern Empire."

"I'm searching for any detail I can find on their necromantic methods. I think they might be the key to creating portable ritual circles."

That got her an intrigued look. "You're a necromancer? You don't look very much like one."

Penny bristled. "Why, because I'm too young? Or too mortal?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend," Samira said, her voice rich and warm. "I just meant that most other necromancers I've met have gone for a very... uniform aesthetic, but you have your own style. I like it."

The edge of Penny's annoyance subsided, and she felt her cheeks pink slightly at the unexpected compliment. Thankfully the food arrived, and the conversation ebbed again.

~

Penny returned to work through more of the book the next morning, carefully transcribing the most relevant-looking passages for later analysis. The day was unseasonably warm, and at lunchtime she offered to show Samira the street food on offer in the market. They perched on a low wall to eat deep-fried dumplings while Samira told Penny about the job and city she'd left behind to come fill in for Micah. Penny's nose and fingertips were numb by the time they parted ways, but the sound of Samira's laughter warmed the inside of her chest.

The day after that Penny once more headed to the Forbidden Magics section to sift through page after page of irrelevant musings. If she were honest with herself, she was pretty sure she'd exhausted all of the book's useful content yesterday, and if her gaze lingered on Samira more than it had the other days - well, she was only human. At lunch time the two of them crowded onto a bench in a busy tavern, where Samira told her about growing up as one of four sisters. Penny, as an only child, couldn't decide whether she was jealous or horrified.

The day after that she had undergrads to teach, and she spent the entire time missing Samira and wondering whether Samira had missed her. Oh, this was going to be trouble.

~

"It's no good, Munch," she said to her rabbit as she kicked her shoes off. "I can't talk myself out of this one. I'm going to have to ask her on an actual date, and then I'll have to move to another city when she says no and I can't show my face at the library any more."

Munch looked up at her, long white ears twitching, and then bent to nibble at his fur.

"Well of course you don't care. But nowhere else has as good a collection of necromancy texts. I'm doomed to languish in obscurity forever." She flopped dramatically backwards onto the cushion, and felt something hard dig into her side. "What the - "

The offending object turned out to be the corner of a book. And not just any book. 'Metaphysical Theory and Practice' was stamped in gold across its dun brown cover; 'Seventeenth Edition' embossed in smaller print underneath.

"Son of a bitch."

~

As she was packing up at the study table the next day, Penny tried to gather her courage to broach the subject with Samira. But just as she opened her mouth to do it, Samira spoke first.

"I have something to tell you," she said, chewing on her bottom lip. It was an uncharacteristically uncertain gesture.

Penny couldn't have moved or spoken if she wanted to; she was held immobile by the warring sensations of anticipation and fear coursing through her.

"Micah will be returning to work next week," Samira continued. "So tomorrow will be my last day filling in for him."

"... Oh. That's - that's great, obviously, I'm glad he's alright," Penny said, distantly aware that she was genuinely pleased for the elf. But mostly, she felt crushing disappointment. Samira would presumably be moving away again, then.

"I enjoyed our lunches," Samira was saying. "Thank you for that; it's always hard to find your feet in a new city and you were - very kind."

Penny stared into those warm eyes, and felt like she was drowning. She forced a smile onto her face. "You're welcome. It was nice to have company, for a while."

Samira smiled back. "If I'm ever back in Luzhič, we'll have to do this again." She handed over a scrap of paper with her contact details written on it. Penny pocketed it numbly.

"Sure. That would be nice."

She walked home with _Metaphysical Theory and Practice_ still weighing down her bag, and the sudden loss of something she'd never even had weighing down her heart.

~

The rest of the winter passed in a haze of reading and writing; testing out theories and hitting dead ends. Every failed attempt sent Mme Lascelle's dismissive words ringing in her ears again. Several times she ran her fingers over the scrap of paper pinned to her noticeboard and wondered whether she should reach out. And say - what, exactly? "Hi, this is the random necromancer you met while you were seconded in Luzhič for, like, a week. I know we can't meet up because you're hours away now, but I just wanted to see how you were doing?" That wouldn't sound pathetic at all.

Finally, in March, she had her breakthrough. She carefully marked the last line of the geometric design she'd constructed onto her floorboards in chalk, and placed in the centre a pure silver amulet with the same design engraved on it. Stepping carefully to avoid smudging the chalk, she lit the candles positioned at the six extents. Then, with a wish that any spirits who might be watching would lend her their strength, she began to draw power from the other side through the circle. When the flow felt steady, she swung the bell she'd had commissioned. Its pealing voice rang out at a carefully calibrated pitch, and she added her own chant on top in eerie harmony, reading from the book propped open in front of her. 

Overkill, possibly, to include all these elements, but she could try simplifying later once she had a working method. She felt the barrier to the other side thin and become permeable, sending a shiver up her spine and lifting the hairs all along her arm. And then suddenly, it snapped closed. The candles guttered out, and she silenced the bell. Hand trembling slightly with anticipation, she picked up the amulet, and almost gasped as she felt the metaphysical doorway now bound tightly into its metal. With only the slightest effort of will, she summoned a wisp, and felt it flow curiously around her fingertips as she moved them through the air.

She'd actually done it. Bound a ritual circle to an object that could be carried around. This would change - well, everything. This could bring necromancy back into relevance in a world that had long since decided elemental magic had greater utility and power. She should let her supervisor know. _She should let Samira know,_ urged the voice in her head, but that was still a dumb idea so she ignored it.

~

In July, she bounced nervously on her seat as she waited for her turn to speak at the multidisciplinary conference being hosted by the University to showcase 'up and coming talent'. She was the only necromancer on the roster over the entire three days, and had been wound tight with anxiety for weeks. She released her death grip on her notes, which were starting to crumple, and adjusted her hat. It clashed horribly with her outfit, with its wide floppy brim and pointed tip, but as the symbol of membership to the Order it had barely left her head since the induction ceremony.

Up on the podium the lights were blinding. In the audience she could see the encouraging smile of her supervisor, and the figure - though not the expression - of Mme Lascelles, covered as she was with a fine black veil to protect against the sun. And - towards the back, was that? Surely that couldn't be Samira edging into a seat at the end of a row? But it was, even in the glaring lights she was unmistakable and stylish and Penny's heart _soared_ to see her. Samira noticed Penny watching, and gave a tiny wave and smile. Penny grinned like a loon and tried once more to rein herself in to the zone of 'calm professionalism'.

She really couldn't have said, afterwards, what words came out of her mouth during her presentation. She'd rehearsed this speech for days and days; in front of the mirror, to a bored-looking Munch, to Micah and to her one non-snooty necromancer friend, Vladimir. The words flowed through her without her involvement, and she spent the time alternating between watching Samira intently and pretending not to.

When she'd finished, and after what she felt was a good job of fielding the questions thrown at her by audience members, she waited by the edge of the stage as everybody filed out. Just as she'd hoped, Samira swam against the tide to come talk to her. She hovered, looking perhaps a little nervous. 

"Congratulations on your presentation! You could tell the audience was really impressed."

"I didn't realise you were back in town," Penny said. Now that she was actually talking to Samira again, she found that her own nerves had disappeared. All that was left was the certainty that she didn't want to let this opportunity pass her by as well. "Are you here for long? If you're free, would you like to get dinner?"

Samira smiled widely. Her hair had grown longer since they'd last seen each other, and with the bright auditorium lights behind her it looked like a halo. "I'm here for quite a while, actually - Micah has decided to retire, and they've asked me to take over his job. You'll need to show me all the best places to eat, if I'm going to be living here."

Internally, Penny made a noise like a hamster on helium. Externally, she managed to instead say "Congratulations!" like a normal human being, and gave herself a mental high five. "I know just the place to start. You'll love it, they only opened last week and they do _the best_ noodles, seriously just incredible...."

She linked her arm through Samira's, still talking, and they made their way out into the warm summer evening.

~

Hours later, Penny opened her front door, wiggling the key just right and shoving her shoulder into it, and flicked on the light as she stepped inside.

"Mind your step, there's a lot of - stuff," she said, looking around helplessly at the piles of books and clothes and crockery taking up most of the available surfaces. Samira was looking around with interest, and reached out to touch the leaves of some of the houseplants crowding the shelves in the living room.

"There are a lot more plants than I would have expected, for a necromancer's house," she said.

Penny shrugged. "Plants are easy enough to keep alive and they brighten the place up. Tea?"

Samira nodded, then paused as Munch hopped up to rub against her leg. 

"Who's this, then?" she cooed, bending down to stroke him. Munch rubbed his head under her hand, to better position her fingers between his long ears.

"That's Munch," Penny called through the kitchen door. "He's actually a cat."

"A ca- how? _Why?_ "

"His original body got run over, and the vet didn't have any recently-deceased cats, so..." she gestured vaguely towards Munch with one hand, balancing the tea tray precariously on the other.

"He's dead?"

"Oh yes! If you prepare the body correctly and use the right preservation spells, they can last a long time like this."

"Isn't it... cruel? To put him in a rabbit?"

"I could release the Binding on him any time, but he seems to like it," Penny said. Munch had dug one of his catnip mice out from under the sofa, and was pouncing on it with his front paws. "See? He's fine."

"Well. That's very... impressive," Samira said faintly, picking up her cup and taking a sip.

"You can say creepy, it's alright," Penny snorted.

"Maybe a little creepy," Samira allowed with a smile. "...You named a cat Munch?"

"It _was_ short for Munchkin," Penny said. "It's a good job I didn't call him Tiger, really."

~

Two hours later they'd moved onto wine - one of the cheap, bottom-shelf reds that Penny usually bought. Why had she not thought to buy a nicer bottle to keep just in case she ever had guests? Samira laughed throatily as Penny told a story about a mix-up involving the visiting lecturer from Halstad and a renegade Thrall. She tipped her head back against the cushion, closing her eyes with a lazy smile on her face.

"I think the wine is starting to get to me," she said ruefully. "I might make the next one water, instead."

They'd started at opposite ends of the sofa, but had gradually migrated into the middle. Penny's toes were brushing against Samira's leg; she was close enough to touch, if Penny dared - if she thought Samira would welcome it. She was staring, she knew, and Samira would open her eyes and catch her doing it any moment now, but she couldn't stop herself. This close, she could see there was a faint dusting of freckles across the other woman's nose. Her hair was starting to break free of its curls, this late in the day. Time seemed to have come to a standstill.

Samira opened her eyes while Penny was hovering uncomfortably close, and she braced herself for chastisement but Samira just smirked.

"You know, you didn't give me a full tour of the place," she said, lips twitching up at the corner. "You never showed me the bedroom."

Penny surged to her feet, the rush of alcohol-soaked blood to her head making the room spin slightly. "I will give you the _most thorough_ tour, just give me - two minutes, alright?" She ran to the bedroom to survey the chaos, shoving everything that had been dumped on the bed into the wardrobe, hamper or drawers. If tonight went well, her new resolution was to keep this place tidy, because two minutes was honestly _too long to -_

A cough behind her alerted her to Samira, leaning against the door frame watching her frantically tidy up. She'd undone the top button on her blouse.

"That's good enough, I think," she said, and advanced on Penny. She hooked a finger under Penny's chin, tugging her up into a brief kiss, and then pushed her gently in the middle of her chest to fall backwards onto the bed. "This is plenty of room for us to have all sorts of fun."

Penny reached up to pull her down onto the bed too, capturing her in another, more searing kiss. She had at least a few ideas of where they might start.

~

"Do you want some fruit with your toast?" Penny asked in the morning as she buttered two golden-brown slices. Arms slid around her waist from behind, and Samira pressed herself against Penny's back.

"Yes please," she said, pressing a kiss against Penny's cheek and stealing a slice off the plate. Penny grinned, and fought down a blush.

Samira took her plate through to the living room, which had bright sunlight spilling in through the wide windows already, and sat down at the table, perusing the titles of the books stacked there. "Penny! You _still_ have this?"

"What's that?" She looked at the book Samira had pulled out of the stack, dun brown with gold lettering - oh. Yes.

"In my defence, I was taking it back the day you left. I got a bit distracted."

"This is a year overdue now," Samira laughed. "The fine is going to be astronomical."

Penny grinned around her toast, a giddy feeling filling her chest. With everything that had gone right recently, a fine was really just not registering as a cause for concern. 

"That's alright," she said airily. "I know the librarian, you see - I'm sure I can think of some way to work off my debt."


End file.
